Important Quotations Explained
1. I
got thinkin’ how we was holy when we was one thing, an’ mankin’
was holy when it was one thing. An’ it on’y got unholy when one
mis’able little fella got the bit in his teeth an’ run off his own
way, kickin’ an’ draggin’ an’ fightin’. Fella like that bust the
holi-ness. But when they’re all workin’ together, not one fella
for another fella, but one fella kind of harnessed to the whole
shebang—that’s right, that’s holy.
In Chapter 8, after Tom and Jim
Casy arrive at Uncle John’s farm, the family convinces the ex-preacher
to say grace over their breakfast. Casy hesitates, but eventually
offers these words. They constitute, in short, the philosophy that
governs the novel: both Casy and, later, Tom will put this theory
into practice by way of a revolutionary fight for the rights of
their fellow man—their efforts to organize the migrant workers.
In the end, Casy proves willing to lose his life in this struggle,
and Tom, picking up where his mentor left off, resolves to unify
his soul with the greater soul of humankind.
On a smaller scale, the Joad family also lives up to this
philosophy, determinedly cooperating with fellow migrant workers
and offering them their services or their food. Ma Joad in particular emphasizes
the importance of keeping the family together. She believes deeply
in the power of human bonds to provide not only practical benefits
but spiritual sustenance.
2. The
last clear definite function of man—muscles aching to work, minds
aching to create beyond the single need—this is man. To build a
wall, to build a house, a dam, and in the wall and house and dam
to put something of Manself, and to Manself take back something
of the wall, the house the dam; to take hard muscles from the lifting,
to take the clear lines and form from conceiving. For man, unlike
any other thing organic or inorganic in the universe, grows beyond
his work, walks up the stairs of his concepts, emerges ahead of his
accomplishments.
These lines exemplify the exalted and
highly stylized tone found in the brief expository chapters that
punctuate the story of the Joads. Linguistically, the passage adopts
an almost biblical tenor in its repetition and grandeur: “To build
a wall, to build a house, a dam, and in the wall and house and dam
to put something of Manself.” The quotation also exhibits a moral
simplicity evocative of biblical parable: man toils, and his labor
builds him as a person.
In his emphasis on the spiritual necessity of work, Steinbeck makes
a point that is crucial to his overarching message in the book: while
the workers’ rights movement demands higher wages and fairer treatment,
it does not demand an alleviation of hard work per se. Rather, the
movement seeks to restore the dignity of hard work to the migrants.
When the workers are respected, when expectations are high and achievement
acknowledged, this is when human beings can begin to find in their
labor the transcendence here described.
3. “We’re
Joads. We don’t look up to nobody. Grampa’s grampa, he fit in the
Revolution. We was farm people till the debt. And then—them people.
They done somepin to us. Ever’ time they come seemed like they was
a-whippin’ me—all of us. An’ in Needles, that police. He done somepin
to me, made me feel mean. Made me feel ashamed. An’ now I ain’t
ashamed. These folks is our folks—is our folks. An’ that manager,
he come an’ set an’ drank coffee, an’ he says, ‘Mrs. Joad’ this,
an’ ‘Mrs. Joad’ that—an’ ‘How you getting’ on, Mrs. Joad?’” She
stopped and sighed. “Why, I feel like people again.”
After the Joads arrive in the Weedpatch
government camp in Chapter 22, Ma discusses the effects
of life on the road. It has, she reports, changed her. The open
gestures of hostility the family has suffered at the hands of policemen
and landowners have made her “mean,” petty, hardened. In Weedpatch,
however, for the first time since leaving Oklahoma she is treated
like a human being. The camp manager’s kindness rekindles her sense
of connection in the world: “These is our folks,” she says. Ma’s
speech underlines the importance of fellowship among the migrants,
suggesting that, given their current difficulties, one cannot afford
to bear one’s burdens alone.
Throughout The Grapes of Wrath, Steinbeck
emphasizes the importance of the self-respect and sense of dignity
that Ma displays here. The unfair treatment the migrants receive
does not simply create hardship for them; it diminishes them as
human beings. As long as people maintain a sense of injustice, however—a
sense of anger against those who seek to undercut their pride in
themselves—they will never lose their dignity. This notion is reinforced
particularly at the end of the book, in the images of the festering
grapes of wrath (Chapter 25) and in the last of the short,
expository chapters (Chapter 29), in which the worker women,
watching their husbands and brothers and sons, know that these men
will remain strong “as long as fear [can] turn to wrath.”
4. Says
one time he went out in the wilderness to find his own soul, an’
he foun’ he didn’t have no soul that was his’n. Says he foun’ he
jus’ got a little piece of a great big soul. Says a wilderness ain’t
no good, ’cause his little piece of a soul wasn’t no good ’less
it was with the rest, an’ was whole.
As Tom bids good-bye to Ma Joad in Chapter 28, he relates to her this bit of Jim Casy’s wisdom. His
statement not only echoes Casy’s definition of holiness in Chapter 8 but also testifies to the transformation of Tom’s character.
Enlightened by his friend’s teaching and his own experiences, Tom
no longer focuses his energies only on the present moment. Instead,
realizing his responsibility to his fellow human beings, he starts
on a path toward bettering the future, helping generations of workers
yet to come. In this way, Tom becomes more than just “a little piece
of a great big soul”; he joins with a universal spirit, thereby
becoming “whole.”
The quotation also speaks to Casy’s notion, questioned
at times in the rest of the novel, that a human-to-human connection
always takes precedence over an individual’s connection to the land.
Casy has acknowledged the spiritual value of nature by going out
into “the wilderness” to find his soul, but he has found that the
wilderness offers no sustenance for his spirit unless he feels joined
to other human spirits. Other characters in the novel seem to contest
this view: Grampa refuses to leave the Oklahoma farm and must be drugged
so that the family can load him into the truck; the Joads’ neighbor,
Muley Graves, similarly refused to leave for California with his
family, and ultimately succeeded in sending them on without him.
Both men represent an understandable reluctance to be separated
from their land: the land has shaped their identities and constitutes
part of who they are. But the Joads, like Casy, believe ultimately
in the superior ability of interpersonal connections to sustain
their grandfather’s life and spirit. Although Grampa dies soon after
the trip begins, he has not died a lonely death.
5. Wherever
they’s a fight so hungry people can eat, I’ll be there. Wherever
they’s a cop beatin’ up a guy, I’ll be there. If Casy knowed, why,
I’ll be in the way guys yell when they’re mad an’—I’ll be in the
way kids laugh when they’re hungry n’ they know supper’s ready.
An’ when our folks eat the stuff they raise an’ live in the houses
they build—why, I’ll be there. See? God, I’m talkin’ like Casy.
Comes of thinkin’ about him so much. Seems like I can see him sometimes.
The death of Jim Casy completes the
transformation of Tom Joad into a man ready to take responsibility
for the future and to act accordingly. Throughout the novel, Casy
acts as Steinbeck’s moral mouthpiece, articulating several of the
book’s more important themes, such as the sanctity of human life
and the necessary unity of all mankind. In this passage, from Chapter 28, Tom quiets Ma’s fear that he, like Casy, will lose
his life in the workers’ movement. Tom assures her that regardless
of whether he lives or dies, his spirit will continue on in the
triumphs and turmoil of the world. As the Joads are torn apart,
Tom’s words offer the promise of a deep, lasting connection that
no tragedy can break.